


Cruelty's Love [ACT 1]

by Bloodywolf327



Series: Cruelty's Love [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Humor, Blood and Gore, It will all make sense eventually, Multi, Mystery, Sadstuck, Threats
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 00:53:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2832278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloodywolf327/pseuds/Bloodywolf327
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eridan Ampora, a young troll isolated on an isle in the middle of the ocean with only his lusus for company is taken into the Aquarius Clan, Head Clan of the Independent State Hope, to be its Prince. He will face many challenges as he is trained for ruling over an entire kingdom and will need the help of others to ensure that the balance of the eleven regions under the new order of blood equality remains. Will he be the Prince to bring about freedom and order or will he be the destruction of hope?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Agreement

**Author's Note:**

> I hope to get through ACT 1 by January 11 with a good background story of our three main characters before I get to the true tale (main goal). It will take me some time to provide the next Act. Though I will provide A brief intermission before the next act. (Or these are my goals)  
> I will be going back to school after Jan. 11, so I will attempt and try to post a the chapter every two weeks. School gotta remain big point in life though so yeah please excuse If I miss the mark in future. Thank you and enjoy!!!! :D

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Cancer clan receives an unexpected visitor in the middle of the night, and who could it be? Surprisingly the Head Clan from the state of Hope and Leader of the Aquarius Clan, The Orphaner.

A secret, gold encrusted carriage rides through the warm night to a land full of barren grounds. Land lifeless of riches for its people, other than the riches the people work for in trade of labor and blood. The people are fitting for the clan they created though its misfortune of receiving less fruit than it is due, caused to its inherited blood color. A color hated by many due to its difference, its originality, its independence from the color scale it isn’t on, from its survival against all its enemies’ continuous assaults, and from the unity the blood color presents in its defenses as they bleed and cry from surviving another attack on what they all share in common. Red. The thing at times they thank, hate, praise and depreciate at moments in their lives, their bright red blood that lets them live their lives and fuels their veins for another day.

Guards on the outer walls of the military battalion city, spot the carriage coming closer and closer to the city, and blow a horn signaling the city of a presence approaching. Late night strollers scurry for their homes, as the Clan Leader steps from his castle to prepare orders for his men dressed in red armor, representing their clan. A platoon of city guards gathers to the front gates with weapons in hand and a silent readiness for battle.

First, a scout is sent out to inspect the carriage before they release an attack on the unidentified rider. After a few tense silent moments, a green fire is lit from the distant scout next to the carriage. The soldiers relax as the light is waved back and forth in a secret pattern meaning ally. The scout leads the carriage to the gates and rides forth to the clan leader waiting at the back of the platoon. There are only few allies the Blood Clan actually has, and as the carriage rides into town the people are surprised to see which ally it is.

On the side doors whitish wings are branded on the carriage alerting people where their visitor is from, but the two royal white, sky-horses leading the gold and magenta carriage into the city tells them the clan leader has come. The Clan of Blood is having a visitor that’s high on the scale and who isn’t trying to flay them every day of their lives. The platoon parts to let the carriage go by into the city, but follows it as it rides and stops next to their leader. A carriage door opens in front of their clan leader, and slowly out comes a tall white coated figure with the hood up. He stops, lifts his hands and takes off his hood but leaves a peculiar pair of shades on as he is identified as Clan Leader of Hope, The Orphaner. It’s been a while since The Sufferer, leader of Clan Blood, and The Orphaner, leader of State of Hope, had an official face to face meeting, but this is all the members of the clans will see.

The Sufferer loudly says, “Let us go to my castle to talk in peace, brother hope. Retreat back to your homes and rest in peace my Brothers and Sisters!”

 Leaving the townspeople to wonder and rumor what the cause to this late night visit is as they do as told.

As the clan leaders ride in the carriage to the only castle in the town, the Orphaner frowned and makes the comment, “It’s hardly a castle to call your own, if it holds the cities’ weapons, the town’s dungeon, a public library and an unrestricted mess hall, leaving only a few rooms for your own family.”

The Sufferer smiled and said calmly, “It is, when I think of all of my clan as a part of me, for they make me who I am and without them I wouldn’t be me. I thank them for what I am able to enjoy and share now.”

As the carriage stopped and the door opened, a sour sigh was released from the Orphaner.

“Well that’s good for you, if you enjoy sharing freely. I earned what I have through war and political battles, hehe. Now there’s my cup of tea, just like the Original Orphaner.”

“I know I’m not the same as the Original Sufferer, but I try to stay to his ideal teachings of peace and equality, while keeping my clan alive in today’s fighting world. Battle I do not enjoy, but I will not idealistically sit by and let my people die.”

The Sufferer’s tone was stern and strong with eyes calm and certain. A smirk rose to the Ophaner’s face and a mischievous glint in his eye as he spoke to the Sufferer.

“It’s good to see you haven’t changed much over the years, old friend.”  

The age and wisdom of the two comrade veterans shined out with them talking of battles and wild times in their early years, as they both walked out of the carriage to a private castle section. After they closed the door to the secluded room, the Sufferer took a seat at the table across from the Clan leader of Hope, and asked the question that had been lingering on his Clans’ mind.

“What are you here for Orphaner?”

A sly smile arose from beneath the magenta blood’s shades towards the Sufferer as he spoke jokingly, “Can’t I just come to see an old friend?”

This behavior was giving crazy warning signs to the old friend that something was seriously wrong, especially those shades. He must have made a trip to the state of Void sometime since you last saw him as the tinted glass could only be found in that region. Relations between your state and the Void are anything but, friendly…

“Why are you here Orphaner and do not avoid my question this time.”

Your voice was sterner then curiously concerned this time around. His brows furrowed and a frown coated his face as he spoke calmer then you were comfortable with.

“I need a battalion of three hundred of your finest first class knights trained.”

The Sufferer’s eyes widened and shock was as plain on his face as in his voice.

 “THREE HUNDRED?! No! That’s a fourth of my cities defenses! What do you even need them for Orphaner? Please tell me you aren’t planning another war with one of the other Clans? Aren’t you neutral or friendly with all of them? I can’t deal wit- ”

“ **SHUT THE FUCK UP SUFFERER!!!!!** ”

The Orphaner slams his hands down on the wooden table, breaking it in half and continuing his rage, head turning the color of a plum.

 “GOG, YOU HAVVEN’T LOST THE TOUCH TO BECOME A’ INSUFFERERABLE PRICK PREACHIN’ AN’ WWORRYIN OVVER SHIT, OVVER THE YEARS HAVVE YA!?”

Startled and interrupted from his started sermon of worries, the Sufferer is silent for a moment, then busted into laughter, barley choking out the words.

“Neith-HA Ha Neither have you TEMPERED PLUM BERRY! HAHAHAHa!”

The Orphaner shook his head softly and sat down, calmed by his old friend’s reaction.

“Oh, shut the fuck up man…Heh.”

He couldn’t help a small snicker from old good memories, but the smile on his face stops as he clenches his chest in pain. The Sufferer notices straight away and asks with concern clearly expressed.

 “Are you alright?”

Questions started popping into his mind as he over looked his friend’s current state closer.

_‘ Did the Orphaner usually look this pale? And why is he wearing a coat instead of his usual flashy clothing?’_

The Sufferer receives his answer after a series of loud violent coughs are hacked and the shades fall off. Visible traces of magenta blood lace the Ophaner’s hand but his eyes are what frighten you. Each eye has turned from their normal healthy yellowish hue to the same deep coloring shade of his blood. A small snicker comes from the Ophaner as he leans back in the chair and looks sadly back at his old friend, voice quiet and calm.

“I’m dying Sufferer…”

He pauses a moment to let it soak into his friend’s mind, though it doesn’t seem to be helping much as the sufferer says, frantically with an uneasy smile.

“No way~ you’re not, you’re still very young. I’ll die way before you- ”

“I’ll be dead in half a sweep…”

The Orphaner sternly interrupts the disbelief about his impending future. The sufferer looked dumbfounded with mouth slightly agape from the heart stopping news. With the heavy silence hanging in the air, the Hope clan leader continues to speak.

“I’ve had it confirmed by the Clan Leaders of Time, Mind, and Doom...”

The Orphaner’s face was one of collected sadness and acceptance, the opposite of the Sufferer’s. Anger, sadness, disbelief all bubbled on his face and in his body language as fists tightly clenched as he spoke.

 “How long have you... they didn’t tell me and I saw- ”

“I asked them to keep quiet. Can’t have it floating about to just anyone I’ll be dead before long, heh.”

The light humor of the Orphaner seemed to help as the bright blood’s fist eased there grasp.

“I’ve known about it for four weeks, but...thought it would be better if I made for certain and personally told you, old friend…”

The Sufferer sat down in his chair drained of energy from the subject. The cherry blooded troll bends over his legs to take a minute to calm himself from the alarming news. He rubs his closed wet eyes before any tears shed, and sucks in air through his nose. Holding the breath for a second, he lets it out quickly, and sits back straight up. Looking back to his sickly friend, he weakly speaks, “Alright…”, trying his best to get a hold of the situation and his emotions before continuing.

“It makes sense why you would want men now… but I can’t supply you three hundred of my best men, friend. I don’t think you’d even need that many, maybe one hundred and fifty, but not three hundred to protect your city from itself and raiders after your death.”

The sufferer shaking his head sadly at the incapability to provide his friend’s dying desire.

The Orphaner takes a moment of silence before he grunts an unhappy, “Fine, then I want something else as a death gift.”

The words visually disgruntle the Sufferer, and the Orphaner does a hasty apology for the too soon comment to his friend.

The magenta blood continues after a clearing of his throat, “Instead of three hundred men of your first best knights, I want a hundred and fifty of your second best knights and… an heir of your blood.”

“WHAT!”

The blush on the sufferer’s face, turning his head into a cherry, told the Orphaner he had said that wrong.

“No, no, no! I don’t mean I want to pail with you, I want an offspring of you and your mate! I already have an heir for my clan, but I need someone I trust to protect him after I die. I want that to be your son, so that they, and we, can still have a connection after I pass away.”

The Sufferer stopped for a second, going silent as the Orphaner placed his hand on the bright red blood’s shoulder begging, “Please, old Friend. I don’t wish to leave this world knowing, I left your clan to be alone without a true Ally.”

The Sufferer snickered making the Orphaner’s eyes widen a little with curiosity.

The agitated, “Wwhat?” which came from the magenta’s black lips, was answered by the smiling Sufferer saying, “Funny how similar we are to our ancestors.”

The Orphaner laughed a little and nodded in agreement to the thought. History does tend to repeat itself.

“Fine, as your death gift, I will give you my second born and two hundred second rate knights, but I will have to train my son first before I give him to you.”

The look of concern was passed to the Sufferer as normal training for full-fledged knights had to take six sweeps to complete after starting at their third sweep, so how was he going to… The sufferer seemed to have understood the look as he spoke the answer to the Orphaner.

“I’ve been training him since he could walk as a grub. He’s a natural cavalreaper like his ancestor and will probably be a new knight by his fourth sweep. He’ll be the best knight I will have ever raised, if he keeps progressing like this my friend.” The pride and joy could be heard and seen on the Sufferer’s face.

The Sufferer realized an important detail though, “Why didn’t you ever tell me you had an heir?”

“I didn’t know that either till I was told by Redglare. I did have several different red and black flings in the past, so it’s not very surprising I’d have offspring. I have to go pick him up later this week.”

The Orphaner sighs unhappily, “I hope he doesn’t hate me too much for what he’s going to experience in the future.”

The Sufferer pats his shoulder and smiles comfortingly, “It’ll be okay. Good luck, Orphaner.”

The Orphaner pats the Sufferer’s other shoulder, and makes his best trade mark cocky smile. “Good luck, Sufferer.”

The look of thanks and ease was on the Orphaner’s face as he squeezed his friends shoulder, but the Sufferer pulled him in for a tight hug, and patted his back. They pulled apart said the final agreement of sending Karkat, the sufferer’s second offspring, to guard Eridan, the Orphaner’s offspring, after he completed his training. High expectations were made of history to repeat its self again. A history of violet and red working together to overcome challenges, expectations of a bond to develop in the two sweeps before Eridan’s coronation. This set the futures for the young, three sweep old trolls. 


	2. Ripped Away

⇒ Be the young sleeping troll

Currently, you are a three sweep old sleeping seatroll, clueless to the destiny approaching you. You have zigzagged horns and light grey skin freckled from the sunshine. Wavy, black hair is scattered in a mess over your head with a thick streak of purplish color on the front fringe. A set of violet-grey ear fins find a way to poke out from the locks of hair, as your head lay on a pillow and body on the uncomfortable bed. Sleeping on this metal-clothed contraption with a little cloth bag filled with feathers is what you have to work with most nights, as it’s more comfortable than the cold wooden floor. Your lusus refuses to bring you a “coon”, as he said it’s heavy and too much high maintenance to care for. Instead you receive bedtime stories to go to sleep.

A small smile had finally slipped onto your face after falling asleep midway of your lusus finally telling you the scary bed time story, **“ The Midnight Seatroll Killer.”**

Sunshine beams down from overhead, while a slight breeze with the salty scent of the sea is accompanied by the sounds of loud playful voices. Looking around to find the voices, you are on the familiar beach of your little isle with some very strange, unfamiliar trolls. Strange, not only because there is never a welcoming for visitors, but also that these trolls have few to no physical attributes and are only one solid color. They seem to be enjoying the water, sand, and company of each other as you stand off alone in the distance watching them for a minute. One seems to notice you and makes a waving sign.

Hesitantly, you turn around to try to walk the opposite way of the strange bunch, but halted by the sight before you. It’s the same strange bunch as in the previous direction. Anxiety builds in your mind as you strive to take a foot forward to the right of you. Downright panic takes control as you see the group again. At that moment you make a dash for the last available option, till you are frightened solid still. The repetitive haunting image of the trolls is in view all over again. With a slow circling turn, you come upon the terrifying realization that this group of trolls is in every direction.

You jump in terror as you feel a light pat on top of your head from someone behind you. You fall into the warm sand, and curious eyes force you turn to see what had touched you. When the touching perpetrator comes into view, a calming spell rushes through your tense body at the sight of who it is.

Your big, seahorse lusus is in front of you and does a slight chuckle at your reaction. Anger starts to boil up inside from his laughter as you get up from the sand and wipe it off your thin clothes.  The heated feeling doesn’t stay though; as it is cooled by a reassuring nuzzle to the top of your head with his snout. Cool, white, smooth, scaly skin is a nice difference from all the heat provided by the sun and the light sea breeze. You give him a happy hug in return, overly relieved to see something other than the daunting trolls.

You try to explain why you were freaked out and ask questions about the strange trolls, but you are stopped. Silence is brought forth by the very tip of your lusus’ curly tail softly pressed to you lips. You stare at him in confusion as he picks up a beach ball and places it in your hands. Something is off with the beach ball, but you can’t quiet figure it out.

 

You and your lusus look back to the strange group. One is holding his hands up in the air, while facing your direction. It seems to be the one that previously waved to you. Unsure what to do, your lusus speaks.

“ **Go my younglin’. Go and play wwith those children ovver there. It is wwhat you are meant to do.** ”

His voice is slightly sad and mysterious as he says this looking at the noisy bunch.

"C-Can you come w-wwith me?” Your reply is unsure and wavers in pitch.

Your lusus is silent for a moment thinking it over, and then he looks down at you and answers stubbornly to make a deal.

“ **Only this once, then you must do it yourself from noww on! Brrrrrgghh!** ”  

His tail makes a snapping sound as he quickly curls it out to hit the sand and rolls it back into its normal curly pose, making his frustration clear. His act doesn’t fool you though, as you can see he is quietly happy with a small violet blush across his snout.

Your nod in agreement is all that’s needed, before your seahorse dad’s large tail is lightly looped around your small hand. You slowly walk over with him to greet the noisy group. You know everything will be fine as long as you are with him.

***CRACK***

The strike of thunder from the sweeply monsoon awakens you from a peaceful dream with your lusus, playing on the beach of your little isle with other mysterious trolls, you’ve never seen before. You live on an isle out in the ocean. It’s a desolate island away from society of your fellow trolls, as described by your lusus but you are fine as long as you are with your lusus. He is your only caretaker and guardian, but sometimes on occasion, he has to disappear to go to work or get food for you.

“A proper reef to raise a young surge wwithout outside influences killing the younglin’,” as said by your seahorse lusus, though you lack an understanding of what he means by that phrase.

He said you would understand when you were older.

***RUUUUUMMMMBBBBBLLLLLE***

As the powerful roar of thunder shakes your home, squeaks of loose boards and fear echoes throughout the land-wrecked ship. Frightened squeals, shivers, and your unwarranted movement, results in you falling out of bed in a clump of covers to the hard, wooden floor.

***Thud- Thunk***

You lay still on the cold floor startled by the fall, listening to wild showers and harsh lashing air against your hive. Landing on zigzagged horns first then body, doesn’t feel too great. A small whine flows from your gray lips. The noise is barely audible to you against the raging storm outside. Another smaller rumble from the monsoon storming outside your ship makes the pain-throbbing horns quickly fade. Anxiety returns in its place, with the thought to search for comfort.

***creak creak creak creak***

The old floor boards make creaks with every shift of your body weight as you get up from the floor, draped in a mess of magenta wool covers. You look around meekly for the wanted item of security from protective covers, guessing it would be present from the entire ruckus you made on the upper deck in your room. You are greatly dismayed to see your lusus isn’t present to ease you. Wondering where he is at is interrupted by another rumble and you hit the deck, dropping down to crouch under the flurry of covers for safety.

As the rumble passes back to howling winds, hailing rain, and wildly flapping torn-sails from outside, you quickly scavenge the bed for your substitute comfort. A soft, white seahorse stuffy with a set of purple buttoned eyes and a curly, twisted tail, mimicking your seahorse-dad’s own unique tail, is held in your arms against your panting chest. Grasping your cold, seahorse stuffy close to your small body is only a slight comfort to your growing unease in the dark room as you look around the once familiar place.

All of your surroundings are morphed around you to nothing alike its original shape. Parts of your room untouched by the lighting of violet lightning are a black abyss. Various unfamiliar and strange sets of colored eyes float in the darkness with a slight expression. Some are calmly blank, while others have unsettling pupils. The pupils on each set of eyes scare you as they are all looking at you with some form of an evil grin.

 Vision doesn't help ease the building apprehension, so you close your eyes. Complete pitch blackness appears at first, but the imagery of your window shutters open and the sunshine shining in to guide you  is much better. The warm image of your imagination helps you to take a slow, wary, slid-step with cover-gowned hands held out in front of you. Your room doesn’t look as scary as it was, now that your eyes are closed and your vivid imagination has taken over. Though, the calming effect doesn’t last as you trip over a toy left out after ignoring your lusus, who told to clean it up before bed time. Your eyes fly open and the lighted safe haven isn't anywhere to be seen in the obscured blackness of night.

***THUD***

You fall face first on a stuffy and covers this time, so it luckily didn’t hurt. You thank your stuffy and get back up with creaks for each movement. Sliding your feet across the cold floor, you don’t trip over any more toys and get to the wall where the door should be. Hesitantly grabbing the freezing knob, you open the door little by little; just enough to poke the stuffy’s head out. He checks for whether it’s ok or not to look out. After a few seconds you poke your head out too as he said it was okay.

At the opposite end of the corridor’s stair case a single candle is lit, providing hardly any, to no light to the stair case leading down. You stepped out of your room looking between the single source of light and the dark stairwell, deciding which to go to first. As you looked upon each one, the abyss of darkness looked more and more unappealing compared to the tempting flame that seemed to call out to you, putting a gentle relief to your troubled mind. The decision was clear as you turned left to retrieve the light source.

As you get nearer, you realize the radius of the lights touch isn’t as far as you wish it would be, but you close your small hands around the warm comfort’s handle. The orange and red flame sparks a memory of warning from your crooked, twisted, tailed lusus.

“ **BRRRRrrghhh, Eridan! If you’re goin’ to hold a candle, hold it straight up! Don’t evver let the flame you’re holdin’ touch the floor, or it wwill cause a larger flame than you, or I, could control! BRRRRrrghhh!!!** ”

Heeding his advice for a change, you concentrate on keeping the candle from tilting or falling out of your hands. The covers are becoming more of an inconvenience for you than a comfort, so you shrug them off in the middle of the hallway in front of your door. A cold draft hits you, causing a shiver to run down and up your back. Ignoring the cold and chattering of your teeth, you proceed on with the stuffy seahorse under your right shoulder and lit candle in your left hand. Feeling prepared, you start to walk down to the lower deck of your ship hive.

 The small flame enables you to see the steps clearly, but no farther than an arm’s length away from yourself. Recalling the number of steps, thanks to previous boredom of counting as you traveled down them during the day, you step down as your silent counting starts.

'1'

***creak***

'2'

***creak***  

'3'

***creak***

'4'

***creak***  

'5'

***creak***

'6'

***creak***  

'7'

***creak***

'8'

***creak***  

'9'

***creak***

'10'

Upon that tenth creak, multiple strikes of lightning land illuminating the living room through glass windows.

***Brrrromboomboom***

The few seconds of lasting flashes of lightning is enough to reveal the terrifying image of a magenta splattered adult seatroll, and the items in his cruel, bloody hands. His right hand is holding the dripping head of your lusus and the body in the other, separated by a foot of gapping air. Flashes of the scary bedtime story come into mind as the troll fits the characteristics described.

“ **The Midnight Seatroll Killer wwas knowwn for his gruesome style of killing his vvictims and bright vviolet eyes! BRRRRGGGHHhhhhh!”**

“W-Wwhat did he u-use?” Frightened and curiously you squeaked out.

“ **His gun for a single shot wwhen he wwas merciful an' wwhen he wwas merciless... his hands to tear his vvictim’s HEAD OFF!!!! BRRRGGGGHHhHHHH!** ”

You squealed in fear then, but not now.

Your mouth and eyes open wide in terror at the unbelievable sight of your decapitated lusus, but no sound comes out as tears build at your eyes. Unable to do anything more than freeze and stare in horror at the unimaginable image, you barely realize he’s noticed you in your state of shock.

Flinching backwards in fear from his bright, violet eyes and magenta slit irises is your first reaction to him as the murderer turns your way from the creature torn apart with his bare hands. You hear the stomach twisting thud of your lusus’ body hitting the ground as you clumsily scurry back up the stairs, dropping the candle and the stuffy behind you on the first few steps.

***FOOM***

At the top of the stairwell you stop for a moment to look back for the last memento of your seahorse parent at the realization the stuffed toy is not with you. Shockingly, you see large flames have sprouted from the candle, blocking the entrance to the upper deck. Red, orange, yellow, green, and blue brightly expand across the wooden framing and walls of the staircase. The cold outside of your skin has been replaced with the warmth that was once inside your heart as the fire’s heat beams across you and the image of your dead guardian remains in your head. The fire is continuing to quickly crawl its way up after you, so you painfully leave behind your dead lusus and the toy replica of him.

Powered by adrenaline and fear you rush down the hall, but slip on previously placed covers and bang your head on the corner of a peeking up board from the floor. A loud whimper of pain rings from your throat as you grasp at the wound. It feels wet and hurts a lot, but you push yourself to get up with the support of the wall, crying the whole way.

After successfully getting back up on your feet, you hear a momentary roaring howl from the first deck over the harsh storms. Turning around to view the stairs, a figure, THE FIGURE, has bolted up through the fire lit stairwell. You don’t stay still long enough to watch the embers and smoke flitter off of him as he easily stands on the second floor. The loud creaks of wood tell you exactly how far away the monster is as you make your way down the hallway.

Breathing is hard and draining. Your body is heavy and cold, the view of the hallway is blurred and tilting back forth as something other than tears stream down the your face. With only the balance of the wall to keep you from falling, you try moving as fast you can with heavy creaks from behind pushing you forward. Your body mindlessly guides you away from the monster chasing after you.

Once past where the bright candlelight once was, you rush to turn right into your lusus’ dark saddle room. You hear a heavy creak turn into a loud snap and crash with an upset roar from the evil outside the room. One of the boards must have given way. Taking this moment of luck you scan the room of worn out leather piles for a hiding place, instead you see an escape. Lightning shines from an open window right above a large pile of heavy stacked saddles. You rush for the possibility.

The climb is difficult as only lightning flashes give you a momentary break from feeling what to grab for in the dark and the world is slowly reverting from its state wavering back and forth on an unstable saddle pile. Your attempt to slowly climb to the top, as you are exhausted, is rushed upon hearing the door to the room slam open. Another roar comes from the monster and you look back over your shoulder to see he is striding your way. Scrambling up the pile, you cause a few saddles from below to avalanche onto the rearing murderer. As he is hit by the saddles and piled to the ground, you feel a slight angry smile spreads across your face, until a groan comes from beneath the pile warning you to continue climbing. Upon reaching the top you are welcomed to an upsetting surprise.

The mountain pile of saddles has decreased in size from the avalanche, increasing the distance between it and the window. You would have to jump to make it to the ledge and you doubt you have the energy, but as a roar surges from below the pile of avalanched saddles, you doubt you have a choice anyway.

You barely have anytime to try gathering energy to jump before you hear the sound of another mighty roar, crashes across the room, and the wiggling of your saddle pile beneath your feet. The Killer is now pulling out saddles from the pile, like a game of Jenga with the goal to make the stack fall. At the dismantling of the pile you make a leap of faith for the window.

Your hands catch the lip of the window seal as you dangle from the edge and the mountain pile collapses to small scattered masses of saddles. You hear a bunch of roaring from below as you use the last of your energy to pull yourself up onto the wet ledge. After you pull yourself up, you sit there with your legs hanging off outside the ship and feel storm outside. The rain and wind lash your hair about as you look out at the harsh sea and storm. It reminds you of yourself right now as there isn’t a calming break to be seen.

You look back only for a moment as you hear the seatroll killer’s roars silence down. The monster stares at you and you start to weakly laugh with a thick stream of tears running down your face. Laugh at your survival and cry for the death of your lusus. In that split moment of grief and distraction, a strong tailwind whips across the ship and blows you off the ledge.

‘So, this howw the story ended?’

As you’re falling, you see the seatroll killer’s arm hanging outside from the ledge with his real face. Focusing on the killer’s face, you have one last, lingering thought before blacking out and awaiting the landing on the hardened and rocky sand below.

 ‘But… I don’t think the Midnight Seatroll Killer would look so irritated…'


	3. A Pair of Eyes For a Few Lives

**= > Be the scared three sweep old troll girl**

Humming. The humming of a deep voice ominously echoes a dark tone through torch lite cave halls. Scents of salt and dirt mix with the sea draft flood the area. Large puffs of humidity are visible in the warm underground cavern system. The ground is warm against bare feet but rough. Feet scrap across jagged rocks as you are guided by a warm hand to a dark room at the end of the path.

From afar, you can see darkness engulfs the room against faint candle light. The light bends to barely outline around a marble altar and the figures surrounding it. Small skulls of dragons are circled around the prepared sacrificial structure with the ancient beasts’ hides worn by each carrier. Words in forgotten Lusi tongue are chanted in rhythm throughout the room with the booming hum from a single figure waiting at the end of the altar. Their roaring buzz drops to a silent hush upon your entrance.

Uncertainly you grasp the warm, grey hand for reassurance. A shivering and tight hold is returned to you from your guardian and mother. Her teal eyes burn with pain from under her black veil as she looks over your small figure then to the rustling sound nearing.

Pain shifts to disdain as she looks to the approaching dragon cloaked figure, his eyes completely glowing bright-red with his teal-blue dragon skin as he leaves the altar for you. Hands warmly clasped together are torn apart once the figure is in front of you with his-own cold hand held out for yours. When he takes your small hand in his, the touch is soft and delicate as if you were fragile feather.

The once chanting figures, now frozen in place with red eyes glowing bright, hold the skulls out to the altar as a sacrifice, while your mother yells something as she is guided out of the entrance by a group of cloaked trolls..

 A rush of fear sweeps over you as you were lead to the lay on the altar. Your mind races over the memory of your mother bitterly instructing you to follow anything you are told. A few verses of Lusi tongue are spoken before you are instructed of what to do on the altar. The instructions are simple as you are told to lay still and stare at the ceiling without blinking. For an honorable and promising power of knowledge you expected to do more. The surprise doesn’t last though as loud clack sound occurs and the ceiling shockingly opens up.

A beam of bright white light becomes black in an instant. Searing pain exerts from your eyes inflicted by the sun’s strong beams destroying your retinas. Your screams of pain may have lasted longer, if you had not heard it overlapped by another familiar female voice echoing through the caverns. As you lay trembling, crying from closed eyelids, and curling your hands around the source of your pain, an unfamiliar voice whispers a soft apology, and you have an overbearing urge to find your mother.

A flash of colors, faces, images, possibilities, chances and deaths unfold in front of you in a uncontrollable second, but never once did the face you were searching for appear. This is the first time your powers occur with the realization that you will never see your mother again.

The price for a “new sight” at life is paid.

**= > Awaken from the Dream**

Heavy, tired eyelids slowly open from the bright, bitter memory to a black image. Sniffing and feeling around, familiar scents, and formations turn into a blurry arrange of colors and words, till an image comes to mind. You find yourself in a chair of the high councilor’s moldy study chambers at a slobber covered computer. Your upper lip curls in frustration as you fell asleep when you were reading a digitalized copy of “The Advanced Text of Alternian Law with Every Law of the Twelve Territories”. You need to learn the law. You need to build yourself a reputation. You need revenge. You need-

_‘You need sleep… and those are all wants, youngling. Hehehehe.’_

 A deep and gleeful voice interrupts your self-thought list of goals as warm, scaly skin rubs across arms and lap. By the tone, ashy smell, and bumpy smooth feel, it’s your soothingly, small dragon lusus and mentor. He has taught you many things and one particular trait is having a snarky, playful humor.

_‘Hatching from your egg just four perigees ago, I would say you’re the youngling here.’_

The hatching of your lusus was one of the few good things to occur after that night.

_‘True, I hatched just a few perigees ago, but I was encompassed in my egg. Let’s see. I was contained for a thousand years waiting for you, so technically it makes me older. First born is the oldest after all! Hehehe!’_

_‘Fine. You are the oldest, and smallest, of us, great, old one! Hehehehe!’_

At the size of a foot and a half long, and eight inches tall, he could be one of your dragon plushies with wings. He joins in your games sometimes, playing the bailiff or executioner, after you prove a criminal guilty and must be hung from the imaginary gallows above.

_'I won’t be the smallest forever trust me! Hehehehe!'_

_Y_ ou both can’t help the grins that spread across your faces. Talking with your lusus always makes you feel better as you both stir up a storm of crackling laughter and jokes.

Seeing upon it that you are feeling better your lusus suggests going to an actual coon. There you and your lusus can escape the dream-terrors in your sleep in thick, salty-sweet, green gelatinous goo. The telekinetic bond between you two does not stop even in sleep when the memory and emotions of the ritual to awaken your powers haunt you. The times are numberless that your lusus has rushed to your side awoken from your fear. The thought of truly peaceful sleep for you both in the dragon lands of your lusus’ dreams, pushes your ambitions even further.

You tell him you’ll go to the coon after you finish this last chapter on the Independent State of Hope. Your lusus licks your cheek in acceptance, then curls up on your lap to nap. You gently pet from his head to the base of his tail, hearing him make a quiet purr in his sleep. The purr made from his body, is his real tenor pitched voice, instead of his deep inner thought voice.

_‘Cute. >:] ’_

The thought absently slips past your conscious control of the telekinesis link.

_‘Zzzz….. what?’_

He drowsily lifts up his head, and you can feel it wavering back and forth.

_‘Hehe. Nothing. Go back to sleep.’_

_‘… Alright…”_

Maybe, he didn’t hear anything? Then you hear him say this in his deep voice.

_‘But, I’m not cute. Hehe.’_

He did, oh well. No use in covering it up.

‘ _Yes you are. Even with your real voice. Hehehe. >:]’_

He tries to get up to make a point, but kind of plops back down. You resist a giggling fit as he wiggles around a bit, then places his head back down with a light teal blush on his snout.

_‘Fine. Too tired to disagree.’_

_‘Hehe. Night.’_

_‘Night…’_

You wait for him to be asleep then listen in to his thoughts through telekinesis as he sleeps with you petting him.

_‘…zzzZZ… *purrrrr* … ZZZZZ… *purrrrr* …zzzzz…’_

Hehehe. The purring tenor voice even appears in his head. You continue your reading by licking the screen, while being careful not to send him anymore thoughts. You are trying to read all that you can before you leave tomorrow for the State of Hope and leading clan house, Aquarius.

It will surely be interesting from what you have heard from the flustering whispers of maids around your own head clan house, Libra. Avoiding the sickening feelings you attain at admitting that you are the next clan Seer, you focus back to the rumors being spread about a new member of the Aquarius Clan.

Rumors say the boy lived on an isolated island away from troll society, till the Aquarius Clan leader had mysteriously taken him in as his heir. Trouble being though, from the lack of communication with anything other than his Lusus, the boy was raised only to speak the old forgotten language. Currently the only three head clans that are capable of speaking the dying language fluently are of Breath, Void, and Mind.

Mind though is the only State that the Hope territory has a friendly enough relationship for them to allow the young prince to be socially introduced by. The last thing the unhappy country needs is for a rotten cranberry to be placed upon the throne, reverting society back to the hemospectrum.

And from what you have figured out, this educating will be done by you, the next seer of mind. Lusi language is one of the other things you have been taught by your lusus mentor. You have grown accustomed to both Alternian and Lusi tongue as the Libra clan is made of nothing but High Chancellor members speaking random mixes of the languages at any point of time.

You don’t have any plans in aiding the High Chancellors, or better known to you as the murdering dragon cloaks, as you happily go to visit the new prince of hope. No, if anything comes to mind with the chancellors and this visit it will be a snap, crack or a pop. The sounding justice served from their necks as they drop from the gallows their bodies hanging in midair by a tight rope fitted just for their necks.

The only way it could be any better, is if you got to make the noose for each one. And it would not be of any trouble for you already have every guilty troll’s size. H3H3H3H3H3! >:] 

**Author's Note:**

> Pick a side: Creation or Destruction of Hope, which will he pick and bring?  
> Should I keep pictures or not? o3o  
> Yes in comments for Yes  
> No in comments for No  
> 


End file.
